Gargoyles: Search for an Angel
by JacksonMW
Summary: Estevan Martinez, after having defeated a pack of Werewolves and befriending a clan of Gargoyles, has set out on a long journey to try and reconnect with his sister. But the reemergence of his past demons will threaten to destroy any chance he has of finding her. Will his long search end with him finding an Angel or a Demon? (Sequel to Gargoyles: Attack of the Moonstalkers)
1. Prologue

Prologue

New York City disappeared from view. And with it an entire chapter of my life had come to an end. When I came to New York, I was hell bent on destroying the lives of a clan of Gargoyles I thought had murdered my parents fifteen years ago. It was a foolish goal now that I look back on it. I was on a mission of revenge, fueled by a fifteen years filled with anger and hate. My choices up until the few weeks I had spent befriending the clan of Gargoyles I had planned to kill all but destroyed my relationship with my baby sister, Angel. I had left her all those years ago to pursue my self-righteous goals. Now, as I sit aboard the plane that will take me back to Washington, I am beginning a new search, a search for an Angel.

* * *

**Hello, everyone, I am The Guy Who Likes To Write Stuff. I'm writing here to let you all know I have given this talented author my permission and full support and blessing to go ahead and write this story as a full, in-canon sequel to my own story, 'Gargoyles: Attack of the Nightstalkers'. I had very briefly considered writing my own sequel, but decided to pass due to commitments to other stories I wanted to write. When this enthusiastic writer asked if he could write his own sequel to my story, I was both very excited and honored. So, I said, "Go for it."**

**He's a truly gifted writer, speaking from the experience of having read a part of his own Gargoyles story, 'Memories', which I'm ashamed to say I still have not finished due to being busy. I will finish it, though, you all have my word. You all also have my sincere word that JacksonMW was given my full permission to write this story. To prove this, I will post this same author's note on my own profile where you can read it and believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jackson and I came in agreement on this joint venture.**

**With all that said, I guess now I can only ask you to please continue reading this story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as you enjoyed reading mine, if not more. I'm The Guy Who Likes To Write Stuff, signing off.**

* * *

**Thanks to The Guy Who Likes to Write Stuff for the kind words. It's such an honor for him to trust me enough to handle his characters! I will not let you guys down!**

**Now, this prologue is rather short because I wrote it in a 'Previously on Gargoyles' esque style. It's meant to give you guys a peak into what happened in Gargoyles: Attack of the Moonstalkers. If you're new and clicked on this story, GO READ ATTACK OF THE** **MOONSTALKERS**.** You don't have to, but you might be confused. You should also read it because it is very good! Enjoy!**

**Yours Truly,**

**JacksonMW**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, for it belongs to** Disney.** I have been given permission by The Guy Who Likes To Write Stuff to use his characters.**_


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter I

"Estevan Martinez?" the car rental clerk asked while holding my ID.

"Yea that's me," I smiled as I stood awkwardly at the counter.

As he typed away on his computer, I noticed several other people who were waiting at the car rental center stealing glances at me. At first I was puzzled as to why I was so interesting to look at. My clothes were not abnormal. The same goes for my face. I then remembered what I had tied to my belt, a plain black scabbard holding a long sword. It was a special long sword too, for the blade is made of pure silver. I had purchased the weapon to kill Gargoyles but I ended up using it to kill several Werewolves instead. I was prepared to leave it in New York City, but I decided to take it with me after learning swords were allowed on planes. Besides, I went through too much with the sword to just part ways with it.

I ignored the stares at hoisted my duffle bag further up onto my shoulder.

"Alright Mr. Martinez," the clerk said, "The credit card on your reservation has been billed for your rental. The car is on our business class daily rate and rented under our extended stay rental option."

The clerk handed me the key to the car and said, "It is located in Lot C Space Three. Thank you for renting your vehicle with us."

I nodded a thanks and exited the line.

I forgot that Mr. Xanatos paid for both the plane ticket and my rental car, I thought as I walked out of the off-site rental building and into the outdoor parking lot.

Back in the old stomping grounds, I thought as I took a moment to breath in the crisp fall air.

I had forgotten how beautiful Washington looked in the fall. Leaves of all different colors lined the branches of the trees. Occasionally the sun would peak out from behind the grey clouds before being swallowed up again.

I proceeded to lot C, which was at the back of the large lot. I didn't mind the walk from the rental center; it gave me some more time to reflect on my experiences in New York.

It is still hard for me to believe that I am now friends with a clan of mythical Gargoyles and one of the richest men in the world. It's even better considering they are the only real friends I've managed to gather at this point in life. Part of me wanted to stay in New York, build a new life with them and try to forget about my past. In the end I knew I would have to come back to where it all started. Better to face the dark past rather than cover it up in more darkness.

As a nice parting gift, Mr. Xanatos had decided to make my rental a high end vehicle. I had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but in the end I accepted his generous gift. The car was parked right where the clerk said it would be. Lot C must be reserved for the classier vehicles, which explains why my vehicle was parked between two Lamborghinis. My rental car was a soothing blue all around with a single white racing stripe running from the top of the hood to the bottom of the hood. I'm not what you would consider a car aficionado (I'm much more familiar with the simpler terms) but it looked to be a Corvette.

I smiled lightly as I walked around the driver's side, looking the vehicle over several times before stopping in front of the tail gate. The key ring the clerk had given me lacked any sort of automatic door unlock button; I was left with just the silver key for the car itself. Either way, the trunk and the driver's door had a slot for the key to unlock it. I set my bag on the ground and unclipped my sword, setting it on top of the duffle. I unlocked the trunk and loaded the bag and sword in with car, making sure they wouldn't move around too much during the ride.

With my cargo secured, I closed the tail gate and walked back to the driver's side. The one thing that irked me about the Corvette was how low to the ground it was. I'll never understand why car designers seem to think the lower a car the faster it goes. I certainly don't think it helps with the aerodynamics of the vehicle it-self, but I'm probably mistaken. I bent down to the lock on the driver's side and opened the door, stepping into the rather cramped interior of the Corvette and closing the door.

It took a few minutes to get comfortable in the small interior of the Corvette. I had to scoot the chair all the way back, which wasn't very far to begin with. I'd have to make the best of it however; I don't think the rental service allows exchanges on their vehicles.

Driving this high end sports car is definitely different from the cars I'm more accustomed to. The minute I turned the engine on and shifted into Drive, the Corvette hummed to life and began to move without any pressure on the gas pedal. It startled me for a moment before I took hold of the wheel and began to pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Even though it's been fifteen years since I've been back home I didn't need any directions to where I was going. I would always remember where my home was.

* * *

I had been driving off the highway for a good thirty minutes or so. The majority of Yelm was located a few miles from anyone of the highways that encircled it. The only direct way to get there was along the state and country roads. Hell, if I remember correctly there wasn't a big name store for about twenty miles, which might not seem like that much, but it still gave of the familiar small town feel.

As I drove down the leaf covered country road I couldn't help but begin to feel nervous. I had walked away from this life the minute I saw my parent's corpses lying in a pool of their own blood. A part of me burned down with that house. And now it's like I am visiting the grave of that part.

I gulped audibly as I drove past a sign that read, "Welcome to Yelm, Washington Population: 2,689."

"This is it," I breathed, "Home."

The road led me into the main stretch of down town. As expected, it was quite desolate. Whether it was just because it was a Sunday or the fact that it's become a ghost town now didn't really matter. Barely anyone was walking on the sidewalk and very few cars were parked on the side of the streets. And there certainly weren't any Corvettes to be seen, which made me feel even more out of place than I already was.

I scanned over every little shop that lined the street before spotting the one I was looking for. There were plenty of parking spaces available, so I pulled the Corvette into a space a couple of feet away from the store. I stepped out of the Corvette once parked, stretching my legs and back.

Stretching my back one last time, I stepped up onto the leaf ridden sidewalk. The old lady working the shop must have heard the Corvette drive by. I caught a glimpse of her stark white hair and wrinkly face before it disappeared behind the curtains on the window.

"Guess it's not every day they see a Corvette out here," I smiled to myself.

Pushing open the shop's glass door, my nose was bombarded by the aroma's of hundreds of different kinds of flowers all mixing together. While it smelled nice, to a certain extent, I had never set a single foot in a flower shop before. It was a sweet yet extremely nauseating smell.

"Can I help you find anything dear?" the old lady said as she leaned over the counter.

"No thanks," I gasped, still acquainting myself with the smell of the flower shop.

She nodded and smiled lightly before returning to her work. I turned on a heel and began to walk through the rows of flowers. Each of the bouquets was displayed in clear and most likely expensive vases that were lined neatly on aisles of metal racks. Small price stickers rested against the vases with a short description of what flowers were used in the bouquet. Situated above the metal racks were assortments of hanging flowers suspended by rope attached to the ceiling.

It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. I'm not one for the overly fancy, so I went for a simple bouquet made up of white roses and bunches of lilacs all tied around a silver piece of string. I carefully lifted them out of the crystal vase and carried them over to the cash register, gently setting them down on the counter.

"Lovely choice," she remarked as she cut off the bouquets price tag. "Are these for a special lady friend?"

I chuckled and said, "I wish. They're actually for my parents."

"Such a sweet young man," she smiled warmly as she typed the bouquets item number into her register. "Is there anything you'd like written on the card?"

I shook my head, "I'd rather tell them what I have to say in person."

"Well that will be $27.49," the old lady replied."

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my money clip, selecting about thirty-five dollars.

"Keep the change," I smiled, grabbing the bouquet and handing her the bills.

The old lady placed the money in the register and thanked me as I walked back out onto the sidewalk. When I reached the Corvette, I stepped back inside, making sure to gently set the flowers on the passenger seat before starting the engine. I eased the car back onto the main street, driving away from the flower shop slowly in order to catch my bearings.

It'd be cheesy to say that my heart was guiding me. It was more like a subtle nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I've never noticed it or paid much mind to it before, seeing as my mind was kept focused on my unfaltering hatred and drive for revenge. I guess all those years my brain was telling me to give up my quest and just go home.

I turned right off the main road just before I came to the local school. The new road led me into a suburb of the main area of town. Each yard of the houses was at least half the size of a football field, dotted with trees and other assortments of plants. The houses were all moderately sized and didn't range from the overly small to the overly large. I slowed the car down to a crawl as I looked for where my house used to be when I suddenly stopped.

I wasn't even aware that I had stopped until I looked down and saw my foot on the break. I shifted the car into park and turned my head to look out the driver's window. A vacant lot met my gaze. The sole object on the lot was a lone headstone.

There it was the final resting place of my parents. They were the only part of my family left alive, leaving no one left to make the necessary funeral arrangements or take care of Angel and me. Rather than setup a headstone in the local graveyard, the townsfolk of Yelm decided to dedicate their plot of land as my mom and dad's grave. While it sounds morbid, it's fitting seeing as there weren't any bodies left to bury. The entire house had collapsed, leaving no trace of the bodies or their condition.

I gulped loudly and turned off the car, making sure to grab the flowers before I left the Corvette. The lot was covered in dead leaves from neighbor's trees. The leaves crunched under my feet as I approached the polished granite headstone. After fifteen years it still showed bright like it had just been planted yesterday. It was nice they see that the townsfolk were still taking care of it.

Slowly, I knelt down and laid the flowers against the headstone, taking time to read it:

Andrea Martinez

Loving Mother and Wife

1964-1998

Samuel Martinez

Loving Father and Husband

1963-1998

I sat up and let out a sigh.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad," I spoke aloud. "I don't know if you guys can hear me, but I just wanted to let you know I was back. I've goofed up a lot since I lost you. I have made plenty of stupid decisions, some that nearly killed me. I thought I was doing it all for you, that you would want me to avenge your death. But now, I realize how much of an idiot I was. Revenge doesn't solve anything. That's why I've come back here to let you know that I'm going to fix all of this. Probably the thing I regret the most is leaving Angel. I left her to face the world alone. I didn't even say good bye to her before I left. I thought she would understand why I was leaving if I ever accomplished my stupid quest. I don't"-tears were beginning to well up as I spoke- "I don't know if I can forgive myself, but I'm hoping she will. I am making this promise to you: I will find her. I will make this right. Next time I come back here, Angel will be with me!"

I rested my head on the front of the headstone as tears began to drip onto the granite. I sniffled slightly as I sat up and walked back to the Corvette.

Before driving away, I looked back at the lot one last time.

"I promise," I said softly.

**Here we are! Sorry it took a bit to upload. Holidays and family got in the way. But I'm getting back into the swing of things and decided to finish typing this chapter and get it up! Just an FYI, things will be a little slow (lacking of the action) for a good deal of these chapters. But stick with me and it'll get a lot more fast paced soon! I've got big plans for this story!**

**Happy New Year!**

**JacksonMW**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles. That belongs to Disney. I also do not own Estevan Martinez or Angel Martinez. They belong to ThatGuyWhoLikesToWriteStuff and I am using them with his permission.**_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter II

_December 25, 1997_

_ Yelm, Washington_

"There's one more present left Mommy," I said cheerfully as I crawled under the Christmas tree, "And it's from Daddy."

"Bring it here, Estevan," Dad said with a smile as he leaned back in his recliner. I happily grabbed the large square box and crawled out from under the tree. I hoisted the box up high and made my way over to Dad, making sure not to step on Angel, who was playing with the wrapping paper rather than her new toys. Dad sat up in his chair and took the colorful box from me.

"This is for the best mother and wife in the entire world," Dad smiled as he handed the box to Mom, who was sitting next to Angel.

"Sam," Mom blushed, "I thought we weren't going to get each other presents."

"Well when I saw this I couldn't help but buy it for you, honey," Dad smiled as he handed mom the present.

I watched as Mom carefully tore through the bright Christmas wrapping, eager to see what was inside. Mom opened the cardboard box that had been covered by the wrapping and reached into a sea of foam peanuts. When her hand emerged, she was holding a golden sphere adorned with fiery red jewels and strange symbols that wrapped around its hemisphere.

"Oh Samuel, it's absolutely gorgeous," Mom gasped as she peered at her own reflection in the polished gold sphere.

The light shined off the sphere gloriously, trapping both me and Angel in child-like wonder at the strange object that was held before us.

"You wouldn't believe what I had to do to get that," Dad reminisced. "Some fiery haired woman saw me buy it and tried to purchase it from me for triple of what I got for it. But no amount of money could replace the feeling I get from seeing you happy, Andrea."

Mom gently set the gold sphere on her lap.

"Thank you so much honey. I love you," she said sincerely.

"I love you to," Dad said before they leaned in and kissed each other.

I turned away from my kissing parents, focusing my attention on one of the many new action figures I had received. As I sat down and began to play with it, I noticed a faint smell of smoke filling the room. I turned back to face my parents and was met with a raging inferno that had engulfed their bodies, leaving nothing but charred husks.

"MOMMY! DADDY," I cried in anguish as tears streamed down my face.

I frantically looked around for Angel as the inferno engulfed the Christmas tree.

"Angel," I cried loudly, "where are you!?"

I sat up as the flames encircled me, leaving nothing but a small patch of rug beneath my feet. An evil cackle erupted over the sounds of the fire, chilling my bones as more and more tears flowed from my eyes. Standing in place of the Christmas tree was a tall, menacing figure with gigantic wings and piercing red eyes.

The figure broke into maniacal laughter as it raised its claws, ready to strike. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping someone would come and rescue me.

* * *

_Present Day_

My screams from the dream merged into the sound of the alarm I had set. I shot out of bed, my backside drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I looked around the small motel room, making sure nothing was out of place.

I let out a long sigh of relief and hit the snooze button on the alarm.

"That was one hell of a nightmare," I said aloud.

It had been years since I had dreamt about anything relating to that night. Being back home is bringing back some less than favorable memories. But why was I dreaming about the final Christmas I had gotten to enjoy with my family and why was it mixed with the night of the fire?

"You'd better cut that shit out brain," I warned, still sitting up in the bed. "I need to focus on Angel, not that night or anything to do with the Gargoyle that caused it."

Despite my encounter with Goliath and his clan in Manhattan, I am still positive that a Gargoyle murdered my parents. But right now, Angel is my main focus. I cannot allow myself to be pulled back into my obsession with that night. For all I know, the Gargoyle is probably dead by now.

I swung my legs out from under the covers and set them on the carpeted floor. The entire hotel room was fairly outdated and old, but it was definitely better than sleeping the night away parked on the side of the road in the Corvette. I had seriously considered doing just that, but after how uncomfortable the hour long drive had been from the airport, a motel room was a better choice. Still, I needed to watch how I spent my money. I had been pretty careless with my money back in New York.

I stretched once more before standing up and walking over to a large mirror that was

opposite my bed. A lamp sat next to the mirror, which I flicked on in order to get a better look at myself. The bruises and scabs from my many injuries I received while in New York were nearly faded away. It is nice to see that they were cleaning up so well. It is almost like the bruises and scabs symbolize the washing away of my past life.

The bathroom was only a few steps away from the mirror. I walked into the very small room and splashed cold water on my face. I shuffled back out and proceeded to open my duffle bag.

There were barely any contents within the small bag: a few shirts and pants mixed in with underwear and socks as well as the basic hygiene items. I was a man of very few necessities. My time living on the road taught me how to survive off the bare minimum, never needing too much in order to get by. In hindsight, it would have been a good idea to buy some more clothes before leaving New York.

With little care in what I was going to wear, I pulled out a plain white shirt and a pair of old jeans. I couldn't count how many times I had worn that pair of jeans, but I knew it spanned several years.

Before putting them on, I looked back at the sword, which was resting against the nightstand. I reached over and took it in hand, grasping the hilt before pulling it out of the scabbard. The blade made the typical "schwing" sound when I pulled it out of the plain black scabbard. The pure silver blade still shined like it had just been made yesterday. I had neglected to clean its blade and still expected to find it stained with werewolf blood. To my surprise, it was completely clean; there was no trace of any blood. I lightly touched one of the two sharpened edges of the sword with my finer and quickly recoiled in pain. Looking at the finger, I saw a small trickle of blood coming from the fresh wound.

"That's really sharp," I remarked as I wiped the blood off on the bed's comforter. "You know, this sword needs a name."

Since King Arthur has Excalibur, why shouldn't my sword have a name as well? Besides, it would be a great conversation piece. But what would a good name be? Most swords are named for the deeds they do or the creatures they've slain.

"Wolf's Bane," I gasped. "Yes. That's it. Wolf's Bane, slayer of werewolves!"

I chuckled at my own display, thankful that no one else could see me at the moment. I looked the blade over once more before I picked up the scabbard and slowly slid Wolf's Bane back into place.

I gently set Wolf's Bane down on the bed and put on the white shirt and jeans. Before zipping the duffle bag close, I pulled out the picture of my parents. It was one of the very few things that was saved from the ruins of our house. It used to be a much larger picture that included both Angel and I, but that part of the picture had sadly burned away.

I stared at the burnt picture for a few more seconds before gently placing it in the bag, making sure it wouldn't become crumpled or get damaged any further. With my bag closed, I set it at the foot of the bed and laid Wolf's Bane on top of it. I grabbed my keys and wallet from the nightstand before grabbing my bag and walking over to the door. I put on my simple converse shoes and opened the door.

The cold morning air hit me like a freight train, nearly forcing me back into the warm motel room.

"Christ," I shivered, "forgot how cold Washington is."

It felt like an entirely different world. I had spent much of the fifteen years after I had left in California and many of the states along the United States-Mexican Border. I was more accustomed to hot summers and mild winters, not cool summers and brutally cold winters.

"At least I was smart enough to bring my coat," I remarked as I walked under a covered walkway that was just outside the motel rooms.

What wasn't smart was leaving my coat in the car and not taking it with me to the room. I guess this is what I get for my lack of foresight.

My car was parked closer to the motels office, which made it convenient for me to check out and get on with my search. I walked through the offices front door and was greeted with the smile of the on call manager.

"Did you have a good night, sir?" the clerk asked as she looked up from her computer.

"Yup," I smiled back, approaching the desk with my wallet already drawn. "How much will the night be?"

"One hundred even, sir," she stated. "Cash or credit?"

"Cash," I replied, taking four twenties from my wallet and handing them to the clerk.

She took the cash from my waiting hand and opened her money drawer, taking out no change and placing the four twenties neatly into the drawer.

"All set?" I asked.

"Yes, you're all set, sir," she smiled. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too," I replied.

I turned on a heel and walked back out into the brisk fall air. The wind picked up slightly, blowing around the fallen leaves in the small parking lot. I tucked my arms together and rushed over to the Corvette, opening the door and stepping inside.

I quickly shut the door and started the engine, making sure to turn on the heat. I noticed an option on the dashboard to turn on heaters for the seats, which I took immediate advantage of. The warmth produced by the seat heater began to lull me back into the realm of sleep. I quickly sat up, shaking off the sleepy sensation and pulled out of the motel's parking lot.

I drove along the vacant road, mulling over my thoughts. Since I've made peace with my parents, it was time to begin my search for Angel. I didn't have much to go on for my search though. Being away for fifteen years really throws someone out of the loop. Angel might not even be in Washington anymore.

The only way I would know for sure would be to visit the orphanage. I shuddered at the thought of going back there. That orphanage brings back very strong and sad memories.

During my first few years at the orphanage, which was funded by the local Catholic Church, I had been in and out of psychiatric offices. I had apparently developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from seeing my parent's mutilated bodies and the demonic Gargoyle which had killed them. Angel was too young to remember anything from that night and was not affected in any way. She was spared from the torment; I was not.

Each night as I laid in the small mattress that the orphanage provided for us I was haunted and tormented by a constant barrage of nightmares going back to that night. I'd wake up covered in sweat and other fluids, barely managing to get any sleep. The volunteers at the orphanage tried nearly every psychologist they could find and afford, hoping that they could pin point the source of my troubles. I never told them anything, keeping what happened locked up in the labyrinth of my mind and never letting anyone in. They eventually left me alone, leaving me to live in my own personal Hell for nearly three years until I found a fleeting peace.

Angel was that peace. I was about seven years old and Angel was five. She had reached the age where she was starting to become aware of how others felt. While I rarely talked or even looked at any one, Angel was the one who finally managed to reach me. She made me feel normal again and helped me to almost push past what happened to our parents.

However, all of that was ruined by that one newscast. And now I am here, driving back towards the orphanage where I spent most of my childhood.

The orphanage, which was called Saint Paul's Home for Children, was located on the northern outskirts of Yelm. It was situated on a large hill overlooking the downtown strip of the town. The building itself was very old; its construction resembled that of an old colonial house. Back before it was an orphanage, the home looked like it could have been some rich fellow's mansion.

As I drove up the hill, I expected to meet the closed in iron fence and stone wall that lined the property that I so vaguely remembered. However, as the stone wall came in to view, a sense of dread and a tinge of anger swept over me.

Rather than seeing a well-kept stone archway and a polished iron fence, I was met with mossy, overgrown stone and decrepit iron making up a warped fence.

"No, no, no, no, no," I repeated over and over as I stepped on the gas, driving the Corvette past the rusted fence and into the gravel covered circle drive way in front of the orphanage.

The large colonial style building was now a decrepit old shell. The wood and bricks were faded and rotting. Each window was either covered with plywood or nearly broken. Vines and vegetation were crawling up the building, adding to its rotten visage. I abruptly stopped the car before the orphanages cracked stone steps, immediately leaping out of the car without even turning off the engine.

I ran in front of the parked Corvette, clamoring up the stone steps. The two large wooden doors were covered with rotten boards nailed firmly into the old wood. Red letters were sprayed over the boards and spelled out CONDEMED.

It was my worst fear realized.

"God damn it," I cursed.

Fifteen years had changed a lot more than I thought. My only real lead on where Angel might be is now rotting away a top a lonely hill.

I ran down the steps and began to pace wildly on the gravel driveway, my mind racing on what to do. There had to be something here, something I could use. I had not come all this way for nothing and I was not going to let a condemned building stop me.

Reaching into my pocket, I fumbled around for my keys. I ran up to the Corvette's tailgate, sliding on the gravel rocks. I flung open the trunk, pulling out my scabbard and unsheathing Wolf's Bane. Grasping the leather handle in my hands, I sprinted back up the steps and raised Wolf's Bane high above my head before slamming it down on the uppermost wood board.

While not exactly an axe, Wolf's Bane sliced through the boards surprisingly well. It took a few slashes to cut through the boards, revealing the door knob after a few minutes. The blade was definitely going to need to be sharpened after I was finished.

The final board broke easily, sending the last round of wooden splinters flying at my face. Breathing heavily, I slung the sword onto my shoulder, holding the handle with my right hand. The once brass door knobs on both wooden doors were now a sickly green with splotches of their former color. I grasped the knob and began to push, hearing the rusted hinges buckle and creak under my force.

It took a few more pushes for the large wooden door to burst open. I crossed the doors threshold, stepping into the orphanages hall.

Dust particles hung in the air like a cloud of fog. The atmosphere in the orphanage was one of undisturbed calm. It was almost as if time had halted within the building. The main hall's wooden floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, completely undisturbed. I walked beyond the door's threshold, my feet leaving imprints in the floor's dusty covering.

The hall was mostly occupied by a grand staircase which wound up the side of the walls and connected the first floor to the second. Three halls extended from the main hall; one on the right and left of the door and one that extended to the back of the orphanage.

I ran my hand over the dusty wood banister of the staircase, my hand picking up large clumps of dust. I began to ascend the old stairs, moving at a slower pace. Each board creaked loudly as I climbed to the second floor. My goal was to get to the office for the orphanages director. I had spent a lot of time there as a child, not because I had done anything bad, but it was one of the few secluded areas in the orphanage. Being there allowed me to wallow in peace.

With any luck there would still be some information on why the orphanage was now closed down and what happened to anyone who had been present when it did shut down. Surely they wouldn't throw everyone out onto the streets. Any scrap of information was my best chance of finding where Angel might be.

The second floor was in the same condition as the first, with undisturbed dust covering every inch of the floors, walls, and ceiling. I stopped in front of a closed door after a few steps away from the top of the stairs.

A dull bronze plaque was nailed into the wood door. It was faded beyond the point of readability, but I knew it was the director's office. I reached for the door knob and grasped it in my hand. Much to my dismay, turning the knob gave me a small jiggle and nothing else. The door was locked.

"Great," I groaned loudly as I tried to force the knob to turn.

Huffing loudly, I backed away from the locked door, making sure my leg could still reach. I counted to three before slamming my foot into the door. The loud crack that followed the kick echoed through the empty halls. I counted to three once again and kicked the door one more time. The old wood splintered and cracked as the door flew open, slamming into the wall on the inside of the office. The part of the door that held the door knob was still in place, however, the rest of the door had been forced open and now hung open on its hinges.

I knelt down for a moment and rubbed my leg that I had used to open the door.

"That's gonna be sore later," I remarked as I felt my leg, making sure nothing was broken.

I sat up and walked through the destroyed door. The office, much to my surprise, was rather clean. There was still dust on everything, but nothing was laying on the floor. Filing cabinets lined the wall to my right. A shelf was on the left wall devoid of any items. Towards the back wall, in front of a window, was a desk covered with dust and old trinkets.

I had expected to see a partially or completely destroyed room littered with debris, but was met with a room that seemed to be frozen in time. I moved further into the room, walking over to the row of filing cabinets. Each one had a faded but still readable sticker showing which last names could be found in each cabinet. I scanned down the row, passing several cabinets before arriving at the one for M last names.

Thankfully, the drawer for the M last names was not locked. I pulled it open, the drawer squeaking as it emerged from the cabinet. An even bigger surprise was seeing that many of the folders I had expected to find were still in place, sorted in almost alphabetical order. I skimmed through each folder, pulling them out one by one, checking the name, and then tossing them onto the floor. I began to panic as I shifted far past where Angel's file should have been. Part of me wanted to hope that the files might have just been misplaced, but my doubt and fear grew as I neared the end of the files.

I pulled out the last file, tossing it across the office. I slammed the drawer back into the cabinet, the force of my push nearly toppling the file cabinet.

"Where could her file have gone?" I asked aloud, my voice shaky with anger. "It has to be here. It has to be!"

Fear and anger were bubbling throughout my body. I frantically ran over to the untouched desk, pulling out every drawer I could find and tossing them onto the floor. The drawers relinquished nothing except for useless papers and office supplies.

Gritting my teeth, I turned towards the top of the desk, hoping to see something that could help. There was nothing except dust and trinkets. I let out a scream of agony that echoed through the vacant halls of the building and swiped my hand across the desk, knocking every item onto the floor.

I felt completely defeated. The orphanage had been my only lead I had had on where Angel might be. Fate had robbed me of my only chance, my only hope of seeing my sister.

I stumbled backwards, leaning against the large window that looked out at the orphanages driveway. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. There was only an empty silence, the sound of utter defeat. I slumped down onto the floor, my eyes staring up at the blank ceiling.

"Poor thing," and old, soft voice cooed, much like a Grandma.

I immediately perked up, trying to see where that voice had come from.

"Yes, so quick to give up hope," another voice, one much more shrill and scratchy but still carrying the elderly woman tone, said.

I sat up slowly, scanning the dark office, searching for the source of the voices.

"Now child, sleep," another voice stated, this one much more sluggish but still elderly and woman-like.

I wanted to demand who was speaking to show themselves, but a sudden feeling of exhaustion crept along my body. The warm feeling engulfed my body, lulling me into a deep sleep. The strange voices now became distant as I closed my eyes.

* * *

"Do not be so quick to give up hope, Estevan," the soft voice said.

"Hang on to the hope you carry," the shrill voice advised.

"For doing so will yield you the results you wish," the sluggish voice added.

"Search far and wide for Angel," stated the soft voice.

"Begin small," the shrill voice instructed.

"And grow larger," said the sluggish voice.

"Until you reach the clouded city," the three voices said in unison. "It is there that you will find what you seek. It is there that your journey will begin."

**Here we are! Chapter 2. Lots of unanswered questions presented here. Where is Angel? What will Estevan do? Who are the three voices and what are they talking about? Well only I know! You'll have to keep reading to find out!**

**Sorry this took so long to put out. January had me working on my English term paper, which I have finally finished. I hope to have Chapter 3 out in a month or less!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**JacksonMW**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, for it belongs to**_ _**Disney**_._** I have been given permission by The Guy Who Likes To Write Stuff to use his characters.**_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter III

_Several Months Later_

_ July 21, 2015_

"More coffee, honey," the waitress asked as she held a fresh pot.

I nodded slowly, my eyes locked on a map of Washington I had laid out on the table. The waitress took my mug and filled it to the brim.

"Thank you," I muttered, my attention locked on the map.

The waitress walked off to attend to the other tables, allowing me to completely envelop myself in the map. It has been about several months since my visit to the orphanage. After the disappointment of not finding anything, I must have started hearing things due to the emotional stress I came under. In the director's office, I thought I had heard three distant voices talking about me, but it was so faint I've dismissed it as a hallucination. Funny thing is, when I came to, I had already thought of a plan to hopefully find Angel.

One thing I was certain of is that Angel was still somewhere in Washington. The only thing I could do from there was begin to search every town for her. Going door to door would take years, so that wasn't an option. Most towns, however, had some sort of family genealogy or records office. Providing my ID and tell them who I am would give me access to any information pertaining to any family member, thus giving me access to Angel and her whereabouts.

I thought it was a good plan at its inception, but as time has gone on, my hope has begun dwindled faster and faster. It's been nearly a year since my adventure in New York and I am still no closer to finding Angel.

I took a sip of the coffee and then crossed the town I am currently in off the map.

"Where to now," I sighed, exhausted from months of little sleep.

There couldn't possibly be that many towns left. Nearly the entire map was covered in thick, black marks. The only town left was the biggest of them all: Seattle. For some reason, I had decided to save Seattle for last, going through all other towns first. Now I am out of options. It is Seattle or bust.

I chugged my remaining coffee, some of the liquid spilling on my beard. One thing I have fallen short on over these months of searching is personal hygiene. My hair was long and messy, making me look like a homeless creep. I folded up the map carefully before leaving some money on the table and walking out of the diner.

The warm summer air enveloped my skin as I stepped out into the sunshine. My car was parked close to the diner's entrance, making for a short walk across the parking lot. A few months into my search, I had begun to worry that I would have to return the Corvette and take up hitch hiking as my main mode of transportation. When I inquired about my concern to the rental service, they informed me that Mr. Xanatos had not set a return date, leaving the rental fee to accumulate on a weekly basis.

I would definitely have to thank Mr. Xanatos for being so generous when I saw him again, if ever.

I unlocked the car and sat down in the leather seat before closing the door again. The engine hummed to life when I turned the ignition. Turning out of the diner's parking lot, I headed back onto the west bound highway

_Seattle's my last hope,_ I thought to myself as I weaved through the lanes.

The highway was slowly climbing altitude up into the mountains that surrounded the city. As the altitude continued to increase, fog began to cover the highway. Visibility was drastically reduced as the highway finally began to descend into Seattle.

_It's almost as if the city is clouded by fog,_ I remarked to myself as I passed by a welcome sign for Seattle.

I had a good feeling about Seattle. It might just be out of desperation, but I figured I hadn't come all this way, been searching all these months to end up finding nothing. Seattle will either be the hope I've been looking for or just another false lead.

Not knowing where exactly the family records office would be for Seattle, I took the first exit I could once in Seattle proper. The fog had begun to subside, giving way to gleaming skyscrapers and a cloudy sky.

I drove slowly through the streets, looking for any sort of records department or office. I eventually decided to ask for directions, so I pulled the car up close to the curb and rolled down the passenger window.

Much to my delight, a passing police officer noticed my car and walked over.

"Do you need help, sir?" the Officer asked in a slight Canadian accent.

"Hi, I'm looking for any sort of family records office," I replied.

"Family records…hmmm…I'd try the city hall if I were you," the Officer stated. "Most public offices are located in the building. You'll find it about six or so blocks from here.

"Alright," I exclaimed. "Thank you, Officer."

The officer nodded and moved away from my car. I turned the Corvette away from the curb and drove down the street for several blocks. Just as the officer had said, the city hall came up on my right. It was a modest looking building, standing about four stories high. It was nestled on a street corner of an intersection, giving it slightly more space than being nestled between two large buildings. It looked almost like another office building. I would have driven past if I hadn't seen a large sign out front that said "Seattle City Hall".

I turned right at the intersection, noticing four pillars supporting an entry way on the northern side of the building. Close to the entrance was a driveway leading around back to a rear parking lot. I pulled the Corvette into the rear parking lot and found a spot waiting for me. With the car parked, I stepped out into the city. The sounds of cars and horns dominated the air, giving the city a New York feel. All it lacked was the rude people, an enormous building with a medieval castle on top of it, and stone gargoyles that could come alive at night.

I made sure the car was locked before walking back around the city hall to the front entrance. I pushed one of the pairs of doors aside as I stepped into the main lobby. It seemed to occupy the majority of the first floor, housing a reception desk that was nestled between two hallways. One hallway led to elevators for the building and the other led to offices that occupied the rest of the first floor.

I approached the receptionist's desk and cleared my throat to get her attention

"How can I help you, sir?" she groaned, more focused on her computer than me.

"I'm looking for a family records department of some sorts," I replied, a little off set from her monotone and uninterested voice.

She lazily pulled out a visitors pass with a space for my name and handed it to me along with a pen.

"Third floor, fifth room on your left."

After I signed my name on the visitors pass and clipped it to my shirt, I thanked her and walked over to the elevators. One was just about to close its doors, but I managed to squeeze into it, making sure to push the button for the third floor.

I took a moment to relax and leaned against the elevators wall. This was it. My journey could either end right here or continue on. It all depended on whether there was any information on Angel or not.

The elevator door opened with a ding on the third floor. A few other people stepped out along with me just before the elevator's doors closed again. I turned left from the elevator and started down a brightly lit hallway, passing by several doors. Each door had a name plastered on it for whatever city department occupied the space within it. I stopped at the fifth door on my left and slowly read the words on the door: "King County Family Record's Office".

I took a deep breath and cracked my knuckles before pushing open the door. The interior of the office was filled to the brim with filing cabinets. A small desk was a few feet away from the door and was directly under a dim light bulb. Behind it sat an elderly man with thick, circular classes and delicate, wrinkly skin.

He heard the opening of the door and looked up.

"How can I help you, sonny," he asked, his voice shaky and aged.

"I'm trying to find a family member's current address, my sisters to be exact. We were- uh- separated as kids, so I'm trying to find out who is taking care of her now," I explained to the elderly man.

"Well you came to the right place," the old man smiled. "But first, I'll need to see some identification, just to make sure you are a family member and not some creep. What's your sister's name?"

"Angel Martinez," I stated as I pulled out my driver's license

I had gotten the license while working in New Mexico. It still had my old apartment as my address.

The elderly man adjusted his glasses and held the license up to the light.

"And your name?" he asked.

"Estevan Martinez."

"Birthday?" he inquired.

"June 11, 1994."

"Well everything checks out," the elderly man said while handing me my license.

He shuffled out from behind the small desk and disappeared into the maze of filing cabinets. I heard the sound of metal clunking together and papers shuffling before he emerged holding a plain manila folder.

"Here you are, Angel Martinez," he said as he set the folder on the desk and opened it. "Though now she goes by Angel Alloway."

"Alloway?" I asked a quizzical look on my face.

"Yes sir," the old man replied. "Says here that she was adopted by Charles and Elizabeth Alloway from Saint Paul's Home for Children in late January, 2003. Shame what happened to that place. Closed down the same year, causing a large uproar of where those kids would go. Most were shipped out of state if I remember correctly. She seems to have been one of the lucky ones. Her current address places her in Seattle's Northern suburbs.

"Can I see?" I asked, containing my excitement.

The old man handed me the file and watched as I scanned over the information Thick black ink filled the spaces for the information, giving everything I could possible need to know about the now Angel Alloway. I found her address closer to the bottom of one of the papers.

With nothing to write it down on, I turned to the old man and asked him for a piece of paper. He handed me a small sticky note and a pen. I proceeded to scribble down the address and then hand the folder and pen back.

"Get what you needed?" he asked, setting the folder and pen down on his desk.

"Yes sir," I replied, giddy with excitement. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," the old man said as I bottled out of the door and back down the hall.

Finally, after months of searching, I had gotten somewhere. All those months spent living out of the back of a Corvette has finally paid off. It is time to go meet my sister.

**Here we are! Finally getting somewhere in the search for Angel. Little bit of a shorter chapter this time. I wanted to split this one into two separate chapters so I could have some content up as I finish the other half. Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

**JacksonMW**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

The drive to the northern suburbs of Seattle was fairly quick and easy. I had taken the highway from the city hall and headed due north, following the instructions on the Corvette's GPS.

As I pulled into a subdivision that was a little bit off the highway, I began to think about what I was going to say to her. How was I going to explain to her that I left to hunt Gargoyles? I still find it hard to believe it myself, and I actually met them! On top of that, it doesn't seem much of America is buzzing with news of their existence. It would definitely be a thousand times easier if I could show her and maybe have Goliath convince her I'm a changed man, but I'm sadly not in New York. I don't even have any direct way of contacting Mr. Xanatos, an asset that would have definitely come in handy. A man with his wide sphere of influence and power would have definitely helped in the search.

And how would she respond to such a thing? With no physical evidence, my word is frankly worth jack shit to her. After all, I'm the one who left her in a doomed to close orphanage. I truly wanted to believe that our relationship could be mended with a simple hug and a few words, but the more I ran our encounter through my head, the more unlikely it seemed.

In a perfect world, we would be able to forget the mistakes of the past and become a happy family again. But we don't live in a perfect world. Mending our relationship would take time and effort from both sides.

One thing I could use to my advantage is Angel's new parents, Charles and Elizabeth. They might be able to help ease me back into a relationship with her. They might not even know that Angel has a biological brother.

"You have arrived at your destination," the GPS's female voice said.

I immediately stopped the Corvette. The car screeched to a halt in front of Angel's home. I turned off the engine and stepped out into the summer air, taking a moment to observe the house.

By all accounts, the house was very modest. It was one story and looked like it was from the seventies. It was very angular in construction, with a sloped roof and long square windows. Much like the other houses on the block, it made up for its lack of a second story in the size of the first story. The front yard was adorned with cleanly cut grass and flowers planted along garden beds that ran parallel to the house and the front walkway. To my right was a garage with a rather nice looking sports car parked in the driveway.

I observed the house in great detail, hoping to evaluate who Angel's adoptive parents might be. Just by looking at the house, I could tell they were a very modest couple. They seemed to care just enough about the appearance of their home to make it look pleasing to the eye but not overly showy.

The walk up the front pathway seemed to take an eternity. What looked like only a few steps turned into a mile of walking as my head filled with worries. I considered turning around right there and driving away, but I powered through the negative feelings. My quest to reunite with her was not only about doing what my parents would have wanted, but about receiving closure. I needed to know the person she grew up to be.

I slowly climbed the few steps that led to the front door. My nerves tried to stop my legs in place, but I powered through them. I had come this far, and I wasn't going to give up now. Gulping loudly, I stood before the door that separated me from my old life and my new life.

_This was it_, I thought. _Do or die time. And it's time to do!_

I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. The simple little chime rang through the house, with a faint sound of it coming through the wood door. As the chime finished, I heard the sound of footsteps coming to the door. A lock was turned and the door was opened.

"Can I help you?" asked a middle aged woman with fair white skin and dark brunette hair.

"Hi. Is-uh-Angel home," I stammered.

"She's not home right now," the woman replied. "Are you a friend from school?"

"No ma'am. I'm-uh-actually her brother, Estevan Martinez," I replied. "I don't know if she told you that she had a brother, but here I-"

The woman cut me off by reaching her arms around my waist and gripping me in a hug. Her sudden display of affection caught me off guard, so I just stood motionless as she hugged me.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaimed. "We never thought you'd still be alive, let alone actually come to see us."

"Um, well yeah," I stuttered, not knowing what to say.

"Please, come in! Charles will want to meet you," the woman said. "I'm Elizabeth, by the way."

Elizabeth dragged me into her home, shutting the door behind her and leading me through the front hallway into the back of the home. The room was furnished with a large leather couch in front of a stone fireplace. On both sides of the couch were black leather recliners. In front of the couch and fireplace was a small wooden coffee table adorned with a small floral arrangement. A flat screen TV hung above the fireplace's mantel.

I was lead across the living room's carpeted floor by Elizabeth. She took me over to one of the recliners, which was occupied by a bald man wearing small, round glasses. The bald man was reading a local newspaper and took little notice to me until Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Charles, this is Estevan Martinez, Angel's older brother" she said with a small squeal.

Setting aside the newspaper, Charles looked up at me.

"Sir," I nodded politely.

Charles narrowed his eyes, moving his head in small but noticeable movements. He was looking me up and down, and as he did so, I could see a skeptical look come across his face.

"Hello," he said, conveying barely any emotions in his gruff voice.

"Please, take a seat," Elizabeth said. "Would you like some refreshments?"

I sat down on the couch and said, "Water, please."

Elizabeth scurried off into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Charles. There was a sense of awkwardness in the air between Charles and me. I tried to avoid fidgeting as Charles picked up his newspaper and resumed his reading. Every once in a while, the bald man would sneak a subtly glance at me from behind his newspaper.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Elizabeth returned to the room. She held a glass of ice water in her hand and handed it to me before she sat down in the second recliner.

"So, Estevan. I'm sure you have plenty of questions," Elizabeth said, breaking the awkward silence that had hung in the air.

I cleared my throat and said, "Yeah, I do. How'd you guys know about me? Did Angel tell you she had an older brother?"

"We actually knew about you before we adopted Angel," Elizabeth informed me. "The adoption agency informed us of you two and your…special circumstances. We were planning on adopting you both, but seeing as you had run away before we could, we adopted Angel instead."

I hung my head low upon hearing this. By running away, I had not only deprived Angel of a life with her brother, but deprived myself of a normal, mystical creature free life as well. I couldn't help but think of what could have been, with Angel and me growing up under our new parents.

"May I ask why you left, Estevan," Charles inquired, raising an eyebrow.

The question that I had feared they would ask. What should I tell them? Should I say that I left to hunt Gargoyles and tell them of my adventure in New York? Or should I tell them I simply ran away, thinking I wouldn't be adopted? But then they might inquire about what I did during these fifteen years. I could tell them about the various 'jobs' I held, but even those experiences would raise more questions.

I nervously glanced around the room, hoping for some sort of way to avoid giving an answer.

"Well, regardless of whatever 'reasons' you left, Estevan, I don't think you seeing Angel right now would be the best thing for her," Charles said bluntly as he sat upright in his recliner.

"Charles, I don't think you should be saying that," Elizabeth exclaimed, caught off guard by her husband's bluntness.

"Well, it needed to be said," Charles stated, turning towards his wife. "I am not going to sugar coat what our daughter had to go through."

Charles then turned back towards me.

"When we first adopted Angel, she barely said a word to us or anyone. All she would do is mumble about you, constantly asking why you left and where you had gone. Nothing we did brought her out of this state of self-pity. We began to think that if she had carried on like that any longer, she would….hurt herself. Thankfully, as she grew up, she began to forget about you leaving her and instead chose to carry on with her life. And now you show up, fifteen years later, looking like a homeless bum, asking where OUR daughter is. I don't think you deserve to see her, after what you did."

I was about to interject when Charles started up again.

"And another thing! What makes you so sure that she'll want to see you? After what you did, I think you'll be lucky enough for her to even acknowledge your existence. So I hope you have a really good plan for mending your relationship, 'cause you won't be getting any sympathy from us," Charles spit, his face contorting into one of disgust.

At the end of his rant, I sat on the couch, lost for words. Charles had a very good point. I didn't even know that Angel wanted to meet me after what I did. Despite that, I wasn't going to be denied everything I had worked for by one man. I've gone through way too much shit to get here now, and just because Charles doesn't want me to meet Angel will in no way stop me.

I quietly set the glass of water down on the coffee table and stood up, turning towards Charles as I did.

"Listen here, Charles," I said with a hint of annoyance. "You think you can stop me? Do you REALLY think you can keep me from seeing my sister after fifteen long years? I'd make damn sure that you actually can before you do, because nothing on this Earth will stop me. I've spent those fifteen years wallowing in my self-pity over the death of our parents. That's fifteen fucking years of my life down the drain. And now, when I'm finally facing my past, finally trying to right the wrongs I've done, you lecture me about what you think Angel wants? You have the nerve to do such a thing after my efforts to find her? I'd reevaluate your efforts, because nothing you do will stop me. I will see my sister again, whether you support that or not."

I stared Charles down, waiting for him to make a move. Elizabeth just sat quietly in her chair, holding her breath and waiting for something to happen. Letting out a short sigh, Charles folded the newspaper and stood up. He walked towards me and stood a few feet away from my face, his eyes glaring into mine. Bracing for some sort of physical attack, I readied to defend myself but still kept my eyes locked on Charles.

What I hadn't readied myself for was exactly what Charles did: he extended his hand for a handshake.

"You're right," he said calmly.

Dumbfounded, I shook his hand. I didn't know what to say in response.

Charles continued, saying "Estevan, as Angel's father, it's my duty to make sure she receives the best and nothing less. Initially, when I first saw you, all I saw was a homeless bum claiming to be related to my sweet daughter. I was about ready to throw you out of my house. But when you just stood up to me, you managed to convince me otherwise. You just showed me how sincere, how determined you are to be reunited with your sister. And now I don't see a homeless bum waltzing into my home, but determined young man ready to face his past and the unknown future."

"T-that's great," I said, pulling Charles in for a hug.

Charles chuckled and patted me on the back.

"I'm surprised how at how restrained you were as I lectured you. If someone was keeping me from one of my family members, I'd probably give them a good right hook," Charles stated as he went back to sit down after our embrace.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and said, "You seem like a wonderful young man, Estevan. We all have our regrets and flaws and it's wonderful to see you trying to rectify them. I think it's safe to say that you have both of our blessings."

I smiled widely and said, "So where is Angel?"

Charles and Elizabeth exchanged a glance before Charles spoke up.

"She's in New York," Charles stated.

**Here ya go! Chapter 4! Looks like Estevan's journey is coming full circle now, seeing as he is now heading back to New York City! This is where the real story begins. Prepare yourself for an awesome adventure!**

**JacksonMW**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter V

The New York skyline was shrouded in dark clouds and a seemingly never ending deluge of rain. Lightning streaked through the clouds and thunder constantly echoed through the air. The only light that could be found among the sheets of rain came from the towering sky scrapers of the city itself. But even that light was dimmed by the clouds and rain.

A top the newly constructed World Trade Center, a lone figure stood. His gaze was set out across the city scape as the rain pinged off his metal armor. A thick, black leather hood covered his masked face and draped down to the figures waist. The armor was dirtied with age and segmented around the abdomen, arms, and legs to allow for a greater ease of movement. Across his back, the figure carried a simple long sword encased in a black sheath.

The figure outstretched his right hand, which was encased in a clawed metal glove, and waved it across the cities horizon. He inhaled deeply as he did, his raspy breaths echoing in his metal mask.

From behind, he heard the sound of metal boots clanging against the roof of the skyscraper. He turned his head slightly and took notice of the second figure, one who was clad in similar armor. The second figure wore an ornate Templar helm with a chain-mail neck seal a top his head. Leather tabards ran down the second figure's breast and abdomen plate. The leather tabards joined to form a long skirt that stopped just above his metal boots and was cut along the sides to give him greater maneuverability. In his right hand, the second figure held a large halberd that had its handle wrapped in black leather.

The first figure turned back to the city and lowered his hand.

"Can you feel the power brother?" the first figure asked, his voice low and hoarse.

"Indeed. There is a strong pull upon this isle," replied the second figure, whose voice sound much like an elderly Englishman but still carried the hoarseness of the firsts. "No doubt there are more than one of the artifacts here. Perhaps even all of them."

"Aye, centuries of searching may finally have come to an end," the first figure stated as he turned towards the second figure. "Mortal forms may be best for this hunt, brother."

The second figure nodded and slammed his halberd's pommel into the ground, allowing it to stay in place without needing to be held. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Upon this concrete isle, our current forms may be vile. Bestow upon us flesh and bone so that we may freely roam!"

* * *

The plane rocked side to side, startling me awake. I sat up in my seat, awoken to the sound of the plane's engine echoing through the pressurized cabin. Another bout of turbulence rocked me in my chair as I reached for my seat's light switch. I turned it on and rubbed my face while sitting up in my chair.

After meeting with Elizabeth and Charles, they told me that Angel was in New York preparing to start her first semester at New York University. The whole situation was rather ironic, for only nearly a year ago I had left that city in search of her, not knowing that we would both end up back where I started.

My return to New York also brought me back to reflecting upon my final encounter with Elisa. I had asked the good detective if they had ever run into interesting characters like me ever again. She said that such encounters are actually more common than I thought. Turns out she was right. Soon I would be back among the towering skyscrapers and their unlikely inhabitants, the Gargoyles: Goliath, Hudson, Brooklyn, Angela, Lexington, Broadway, and Bronx. It was exciting to think that I would soon be surrounded by mythical creatures a top the Eyrie building once again.

However, another thought had begun to creep into my mind as I reminisced about the Gargoyles. Should I actively seek them out again? I was coming to New York for a very specific mission, one that has the potential to shape the rest of my life. The Gargoyles are very good friends, friends who probably wouldn't hesitate in helping me, but I felt like the best thing to do would be to limit my distractions. Mending my relationship with Angel would take time and energy, and that time and energy would best be spent on Angel, not the Gargoyles.

"Attention passengers, we are now beginning our descent into New York. The current time is 8:45PM. Right now there are some pretty strong storms moving through the area, so expect some turbulence to accompany our landing. As always, we thank you for choosing to fly with us and hope you have a wonderful evening," a stewardess announced over the planes intercom.

I reached my hand up to the light switch once again and turned it off, allowing the planes dim interior lighting to illuminate my surrounding area. Much of the plane's seats were unoccupied, making for an eerie quietness aboard the plane. Angel's adoptive parents had been gracious enough to book this last minute flight for me and pay for half of the ticket. They also provided me with enough information to find Angel. She is staying with her adoptive father's Grandparents, Xavier and Anastasia Alloway, an elderly rich couple who live in Rye, New York. Rye is located a few miles north of New York City proper and is one of the more posh areas surrounding the city. Charles informed me that many of the people who live there are very snobbish and that his Grandparents are no exception. Before I go to meet them, he advised me to clean myself up and find a nicer pair of clothes.

I peered back out the window and was met with a rain covered New York city scape. Each of its massive skyscrapers still shown as brightly as ever despite the deluge. No amount of weather could mask the cities unique beauty and character.

A few more minutes passed before the plane's wheels touched down on the slick run way of JFK International. The rain seemed to be coming down much harder now and showed no interest in ceasing any time soon. Thick sheets fell from the clouds and pounded the plane as it pulled into one of the airports open gates.

Once docked at the gate, everyone who was on the flight shot up from their seats, clambering to get out of the cabin as quickly as possible. I sat quietly in my chair, waiting for the plane's aisle to clear. Once most of the passengers had moved past my seat, I stood up and entered the aisle. I threw the latch on the overhead bin, pushing it open and grabbing my duffle bag. Wolf's bane had to be placed in the cargo hold, so I would have to pick it up in baggage claim before finding a taxi that could take me into the city.

I secured my duffle bag and walked down the now empty aisle, stepping off the plane at its exit. I listened to the echo of the rain as I walked up the boarding ramp and into the airport's terminal.

Despite the time of day, the airport was still a bustling hive of activity. People from seemingly every walk of life moved through the massive concourse, each individual person having a different destination to get to. I joined the flow of the crowd that seemed to be moving towards the baggage claim area. As I followed along with the flow, I noticed a local news stand coming up on my right.

I exited the crowd, having to shove my way past a few people to escape its pull, and stopped at the front of the newsstand. Plastered on nearly all of the newspapers and the two small television screens screwed into the wall were images or mentioning of the Gargoyles. The media was so enthralled with the Gargoyles you would think that it was still the first day that they transitioned from urban myth to urban reality. All across the various forms of the media, "experts" and "eyewitnesses" spewed out their first hand accounts of the mythical creatures, with each tale boiling down to the Gargoyles being demons, misunderstood intelligent creatures, or flat out ravving savages. Even after twenty years and plenty of examples of their good intentions, people were still acting like fearful and confused puppies when it came to the Gargoyles.

One of the newspapers had a photo of a masked man wielding a rather large sledgehammer. Such fanatics were known as the Quarrymen, a borderline terrorist group who sought the eradication of any gargoyle. I read about a train hijacking their former leader Jon Castaway committed back in the late 90's. Goliath and the rest of the clan ended up preventing any sort of major disaster, giving them some positive opinion in the public's eye and seemingly discrediting the Quarrymen in the process. But it seemed that their hate speech is making a come back amongst the masses of New York, leading to a new found revitalization in the group.

It seemed that New York still had plenty of excitement to go around. I turned away from the newsstand and entered back into the crowd. It's flow led me straight to the escalators that led down to the baggage claim. At the bottom of the escalator, I began to head over to my flight's baggage claim area when I noticed a familiar face standing near an automatic door that led outside.

Standing as rigidly as a statue was none other than Owen Brunett himself, the trusted right-hand to David Xanatos. He was a hard man to miss; his rigid posture, emotionless expression, and stone left hand made him a curious sight to behold, but to me, it was an odd but welcome sight upon returning to a still unfamiliar city.

He had caught sight of me as well, and as I approached the right hand of David Xanatos, he greeted me in his usual monotone voice.

"Welcome back, Mr. Martinez. I trust your flight was enjoyable?"

I smiled and said, "As enjoyable as flying in a thunderstorm such as this can be," I replied, extending my arm for a handshake.

"Yes, well one can't do much to control the weather now can they," Owen replied, taking my extended hand.

"But they can send their adviser to meet someone who hadn't given them prior notice to their return?" I said, raising an eyebrow at Owen.

"Mr. Xanatos will explain everything in due time. A car is waiting to take you back to the Eyrie Building. Your sword has already been loaded into the vehicle," Owen explained.

I nodded and said, "Then lets get going. I'd hate to keep one of the richest men in the world waiting."

Owen turned his back and proceeded towards a door that led to the pick-up point for arriving passengers. I followed behind him, making sure my duffle bag was still with me as I walked.

A black limo was waiting just outside the pair of sliding doors. Owen stopped beside the passenger side door and opened it up for me. I nodded a thanks and stepped inside the black leather interior, making sure to take off my duffle bag and set down on the floor beneath me.

I had been expecting to be greeted with the smiling face of David Xanatos, but instead, I was met with an empty seat sitting across from me. I was about to call out to Owen and ask him where the big man was, but my question was quickly answered.

A small light above the seat across from me suddenly flicked on, shrouding the interior of the limo in a pale blue light. Slowly but surely, a figure began to flicker into view as the light continued to shine throughout the limo's interior. Soon it became clear that the figure was none other than David Xanatos.

The image looked like something straight out of Star Wars. It reflected the sort of holograms that were featured in the old science fiction movie.

"Is this thing on," the image of David said.

"Uh, you tell me. I can see and hear you just fine, if that helps," I said, waving my hand through the hologram. It flickered slightly but returned to it's original shape.

"Excellent, that means it's working. How do you like Xantos Enterprises new holographic communication technology?" David asked.

"It's amazing," I replied. "Though it kind of looks like the ones from Star Wars. You sure Lucas won't sue?"

David chuckled and said, "Well considering that I own a large share in Disney's stocks, I don't think there will be much legal trouble."

I chuckled as well and sat back down in my seat as the car began to drive away from the airport.

"Where are you anyways?" I asked, only being able to see the image of David sitting down on the leather seat.

"Currently over international waters. Some business required my attention over in Greece, so I am unable to see you in person," he replied. "But it all worked out. Our little chat is the first field test of this new means of communication, and I have to say it is going swimmingly."

"Well I am glad I'm able to schedule my return to New York to fit your testing needs," I replied, giving a sly smirk. "How did you know of my return anyways? I don't recall contacting you to let you know. In fact, I was hoping to kind of fly under the radar on this visit."

The expression of David's hologram changed to one of interest and concern.

"Why? You didn't leave on any ill terms," he asked.

"And here's what I was trying to avoid," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Well, since you obviously found some way to know about my travel plans, I suppose you already know why I have come back."

David nodded his head and I continued.

"You and your family are great people, and the Gargoyles are as well. It's just that...involving myself with you guys again might not be the best thing for me this time around. Last time, I kind of stumbled into your lives, forcing unnecessary conflict to emerge. I'd rather not have that happen again. I need to focus on finding Angel and reforming my relationship with her, both for my sake and for my parents memory."

David took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before replying.

"I understand the situation you are in, Estevan. Family is an important matter. It's issues are not easily shared with outsiders. I can see how you feel getting involved with the Gargoyles and I could potentially jeopardize your situation. Because of that, I shall respect your decision to keep us at arms length. I know it is not out of spite, but rather fear for you and your sister."

I sighed deeply, relieved that I had gotten this out of the way and off my chest.

"But, I still implore you to not keep us too far away. A storm is brewing Estevan. I don't know what it is or if it is of any concern, but I feel it in my bones. I've been involved with many other worldly events in my life, most of which I shall tell you about soon. You could say I have a sixth sense about these things. The time may come for you to aid the Gargoyles once again."

David's words sent a chill run down my spine. The last time I aided the Gargoyles was in a battle against mythological creatures. The possibility of a future event requiting my help was a warning I shall not take lightly.

"But for now, I would focus on your search. Owen shall drop you off at a hotel a few blocks away from the Eyrie Building. I've already taken care of any expense for the room. I shall also be giving you a holographic communicator. Please use it if you run into any sort of trouble or need to talk. I'm here to help you, we all are."

The pale blue light began to fade as the hologram of David flickered out of sight. I let out another large sigh and slumped into the back of my chair. It seemed that where ever I went, there was always some other thing to require my thought. First it was avenging my parents, then helping to defeat a pack of Werewolves, THEN trying to find Angel, and now a "funny feeling" from the world's richest man about a possible event in the near future.

"Sometimes I wish I had failed at climbing the Eyrie Building all those years ago," I huffed.

* * *

**HE LIVES! Yes folks, I'm still alive! Turns out graduating High School and preparing for college plus working a full time summer job doesn't leave much for writing time. I'm trying to get back in the saddle and finally transcribed this chapter into the internet.**

**I decided to cut out some items in this chapter that I had previously written down so that I wouldn't be rushing any of the reunions of the Gargoyles characters. I feel like having Estevan slowly ease himself back into his former relationships is a lot more natural for someone wanting to focus on finding his long lost sister.**

**So now that I'm back in black, please remember to review! I love the feedback that I continue to receive. Without it, writing would become much more of a task rather than an enjoyable activity. It's so much better knowing that people like what I write and that my story isn't falling into the depths of the internet.**

**Stay awesome you gorgeous bastards!**

**JacksonMW **


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